Sympathy and Guards
by Lover of Angelus
Summary: Linc. It's the only word that you're able to push past your lips and you're suddenly too aware of the scratchy and burning feeling in your throat.


III **Symapthy and Guards**

II

I **Disclaimer**: Me no own, You no sue.

II This is gonna be a bit on the weird side, as in that it won't make much sense. Most of it won't be outright, you'll kinda have to come up with some of your own details.

III **WARNINGS**: CHARACTER DEATHS

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Your brother is dead. 

Your brother is dead and there is nothing you can do now except sit in your cell and throw up. But there's nothing left in your stomach so you just dry wretch into the toilet with Sucre watching you from the top bunk. His black eyes are sympathetic and filled with rage because he knows that he can't help you... there's nothing to hit.

You hear a buzz and the sound of the gate to your cell opens and Bellick's boots click toward you; you're able to pick out that man's walk from anywhere.

"Up, Scofield," the guard orders, he doesn't even glance at Sucre.

_Fuck off_, you want to say, but your throat is dry and scratchy and your head hurts so badly. Your body has crumpled into itself as you lean with your head against the toilet bowl.

"Scofield!" Bellick's voice is louder as he beats his nightstick against the bowl.

You wince because the noise is just so _loud_. You don't look up, just slide from the bowl, your face hitting the dirty floor so that now you're on your side, facing the shoes of the not-so-patient guard.

Bellick leans down, grabs your arm, and pulls you up. You look at him without interest and that seems to anger him. A small smile crosses your face and you think that the word "Bellick" is just so damned funny.

"Leave the man alone," Sucre's voice fills your head and you feel like vomiting again because you are suddenly remembered where you are and that you no longer have a brother.

"Shut your mouth, scumbag," Bellick orders, dragging you away from the toilet that has been your best friend for the past twenty-four hours. You lift your head up and see Sucre's anxious face and you don't know what's wrong. You want to ask him, ask him why Bellick is in your cell when he was a boss-man not a prisoner, you wanted to ask him just _what the hell is going on_. You want to go back to the toilet and throw up some more.

"Linc," it's the only word that you're able to push past your lips and you're suddenly too aware of the scratchy and burning feeling in your throat.

Bellick looks down at you in disgust as he pushes you out the cell and over the railing. You land on your back and you actually welcome the pain. You hear the sudden quiet of the other inmates. Your head lolls over to the side and you can see T-Bag leaning against his bunk and you absently wonder why Abruzzi is next to him. You crack a small smile; you always knew there was something weird about them.

"Get up, Scofield," Bellick's voice is thick in your ears and you hate him now more than ever.

"Shut up," you croak, tasting the vomit on your breath and between your teeth.

"Get up!" he shouts again, grabbing you by your arm and roughly pulling you to your feet. You hear protests from Sucre.

You say nothing as your fist automatically swings around and lands squarely underneath Bellick's chin. Your brain doesn't register what your body's doing: which is basically beating the shit out of one of the CO's. You hear the other prisoners shouting and urging you on; you hear them calling your name out; you hear the urgent voices of the other guards as they hurry down stairs.

Bile rises in your throat once again and you release Bellick, collapsing to your knees and dry retching on the floor. You feel all your strength leave your body again as you lean on shaky arms, your forehead on the ground. You feel your stomach twisting again and this time, blood is mixed with the stomach juices that just won't stay in your _stomach_.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Mike?" whispers a voice; you don't bother to look up because you know that the owner is not really there.

The other guards that were once rushing down to help Bellick have now ceased moving at all, you hear muted whispers all around you as you roll over onto your side. You can see T-Bag, he's eyes are full of genuine concern but also a sort of awe at something. John Abruzzi crosses himself along with a few other prisoners.

"Michael," the voice is closer to your face, warm breath is tickling your ear and you glance up through heavy eyelids.

"You're dead," you state flatly, your throat hurting so much that it takes all of that strength that you don't really have just to mutter those two words.

"No shit," smiles Lincoln. "C'mon, buddy, it's time to go home," he's smiling at you and his hand is stroking your cheek. "Mom's waitin' for us."

You don't say anything, just smirk and close your eyes. And when you wake up, you and Lincoln are walking in a tunnel, there's a light and you hear laughter that sounds like your mother. You look up at him with curious eyes and he says,

"Light at the end of the tunnel. I know how cliché it is," he sighs, his hands in his pockets and a smile on his face. "Just go towards it and don't ask any questions, 'kay?"

"'Kay," you nod your head as he slings his arm over your shoulder. He tells you some lame joke and you both just laugh because you're almost at the end and you're just loving the sound of his voice.

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